


Lost Keys

by I_write_instead_of_sleeping (orphan_account)



Series: Dumpster Fire of Queen angst [5]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Airports, Anxiety, Brian Needs a Hug, Brian needs food, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone is hungry, I Don't Even Know, Low Blood Pressure, M/M, Maylor if you squint, No one likes traveling, Protective Freddie Mercury, Roger Taylor (Queen) Loves His Car, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 02:40:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19242157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/I_write_instead_of_sleeping
Summary: He can feel unwanted tears gathering in his eyes as he rummaged through his backpack, finding nothing but a water bottle, a guitar pick, and an uneaten chocolate bar. He whipped his head around, searching the frosty pavement around him to see if he accidentally dropped them just a few feet away.Nothing. He found nothing.“Shit..” he whispered harshly to himself, gritting his teeth and pulling on the door handle, somehow surprised to find it locked.His keys. Where the fuck were his keys?*************************AKA: Brian loses his keys, forgets to eat, and just wants to go home.





	Lost Keys

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Prawns In Foreign Waters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18588451) by [cablecurrent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cablecurrent/pseuds/cablecurrent). 



> I wrote this in class after one of my exams, so I apologize if it's kind of shitty. I'm going a bit for the next week or so in order to studying for finals. Wish me luck!!
> 
> Part of this fic is inspired from Cable Current's fic: "Prawn in Foreign Waters" in which Brian has low blood pressure. I really liked the concept!

This was it. He was fucked. Royally fucked. 

Brian’s hands roughly glided over his body, searching for something that he was  _ positive  _ was there. Or  _ should _ be there, at least. Maybe he left them in his jacket pockets, his shirt, his back jeans pocket. But no such luck.

He can feel unwanted tears gathering in his eyes as he rummaged through his backpack, finding nothing but a water bottle, a guitar pick, and an uneaten chocolate bar. He whipped his head around, searching the frosty pavement around him to see if he accidentally dropped them just a few feet away.

 

Nothing. He found nothing. 

 

“Shit..” he whispered harshly to himself, gritting his teeth and pulling on the door handle, somehow surprised to find it locked. 

_ His keys. Where the fuck were his keys? _

Panic shot through him as he gripped his guitar case until his knuckles turned white. He was standing in the fucking airport parking lot in the late evening, and he didn’t have his bloody keys.

The cold wind bit at his skin as he willed himself not to worry. But how could he not by now? Everyone had already presumably left, the parking gates were probably closing this minute, and everyone just wanted to go home, why would they assume to go around and check to see if anyone hadn’t come through?

Brian was not very fond of traveling. Sure, he loved going on roadtrips with his bandmates, and he loved touring across different countries and cities, but he hated getting up early, he hated wandering around the airport, and he hated feeling frazzled.

Traveling stressed  _ everyone _ out to an extent. Roger got quieter, Freddie paced around more, and Deaky became obsessed with packing and repacking everyone’s stuff. Which is why the last thing Brian wanted was something like  _ this _ to happen to him

He willed himself to take a deep breath and look around.  _ No people in sight. Great. How the hell am I supposed to get out of this one? I’m totally fucked.  _

He felt his breath quicken, and tried to calm himself down enough so that he could--- _ no keys means no car. Which means I can’t get home. I can’t get fucking out of here. They’re about to close up the lot for the night, and the roadie bus already left 15 minutes ago, and bloody hell--the news reports are going to say- “QUEEN GUITARIST BRIAN MAY FREEZES TO DEATH IN AIRPORT PARKING LOT” _

He didn’t know what to do. What  _ could _ he do? It was too late to run to the gate to try and stop someone, and he was pretty sure everyone else had already left. So what could he possibly do?

He could freeze to death out here. He could  _ die.  _ He was going to die.

He breathed deeply, searching himself again for those damn keys. With a sigh of defeat, and no luck on his side, he angrily banged the roof of his car with a bare fist, feeling hot tears of anger build up, the cold stinging his eyes. 

“Fuck…” he groaned angrily, screwing his eyes shut. 

Impossible to ignore his worries now, he felt the cold get colder, and he suddenly felt dizzy and rather sick to his stomach. He leaned into the side of his car, feeling his face hit the cool window of the passenger seat. He felt too drained to do anything. It was like he was about to throw up, but the feeling was caught in his throat like a knot.

He had no energy. Mentally, his fight-or-flight response was going off like a siren, yelling at him to ‘DO SOMETHING’, but he found his physical body to be completely useless, like a soul stuck in a corpse. 

He blinked rapidly and felt the build-up of tears drip down his face, instantly cooling as the chilled wind hit his face. He tried to think of  _ something _ besides the fact that he could barely move and it was getting later, but he couldn’t. He was getting colder by the minute and---

 

\---He barely noticed Roger’s van driving past him in the lot on the way to the gate, stopping when the blonde caught sight of Brian. 

Confusingly, Roger rolled down his window, an eyebrow raised. 

“Mate! What the hell are you still doing here? It’s bloody freezing!”

When there was no noted response, the drummer frowned and got out of his car, leaving the engine on and the heat still defrosting his car.

Stepping into the frozen winds, he walked over to Brian, the man still leaning face-forward into the side of his car. 

“Brian? What are you doing? Don’t tell me you’ve frozen to death!” Roger joked, rubbing his hands together to keep warm.But noticing the way the man’s arms were wrapped weakly around his midsection, a pint of worry settled in his stomach. 

“Bri? What’s wrong?” the drummer asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. The guitarist turned around slowly, and Roger noted the way his hands shook. He quickly noticed the long streams of tears dripping down his cheeks and dribbling onto his chin, as well. 

“What’s wrong? Why aren’t you in your car?” 

Roger waited awhile, holding his breath as uneasy thoughts began to trickle into his mind of what could be making him so upset. 

The taller man finally blinked, looking up at the drummer with what looked like surprise, then immediately relief.

“R-Rog?” 

Roger nodded, patting his shoulder. 

“Yeah, it's me, Bri. What’s going on?”

The guitarist shuddered a harsh breath, the coolness in the air allowing the both of them to see it. 

“I--I lost my keys…” he quivered, “and I--I thought everyone else had left. I thought--I thought--”

Brian’s entire body deflated, and Roger cracked a small smile. Of course it was Brian’s active imagination acting up again.

“Jesus, Bri. It's alright. We wouldn’t leave without you. And the gates wouldn’t close until everyone was out, you know that. They always check.” Roger reassured, “Come on, I’ll give you a ride back, and we can call the car company tomorrow to get you another key and--hey--it’s alright Bri---”

Roger stopped talking as Brian’s silent tears became small sobs. The guitarist leaned into Roger shamefully. 

“I---l-lost them..” Brian stuttered tearfully. Roger nodded, a sympathetic smile still on his face. 

Brian’s whole body shook, and Roger shook his head, tsking. “It’s alright. We’ve all done something like this, mate. You don’t need to worry. Let’s go get warmed up, alright?”

Roger urged the guitarist, but Brian swayed slightly before burying his face in his hands and backing up into the side of his car, slowly lowering himself until he was hugging his knees with his chest, his curly hair only showing.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t feel well…” he mumbled, letting tears soak through his sleeves.

“Did the plane shake you up, or…” Roger started to say, but halted as a horn beeped from behind him. He turned around to see John stepping out of his car curiously. 

“What’s going on?” he asked, walking over to the pair, “Freddie’s right behind us. What’s the holdup?” 

When the bassist reached them, he noticed Brian on the ground and raised an eyebrow at Roger.

“He lost his keys.” Roger said blatantly, “And now he won’t get in my car with me. He says he isn’t feeling well. He won’t tell me what’s wrong, either.”

John nodded in understanding, and Roger tugged slightly on Brian’s arm. John bent down and gave Brian a half hug.

“Bri, I know that traveling makes you stressed, but it's freezing and we need to get out of here.” the bassist said gently. Brian just shook his head slowly, his brown curly hair moving with his movements.

“I-I don’t think I can..” he said softly.

John and Roger turned their heads as a car beeped loudly a couple of meters away. 

“What’s the bloody holdup?!” Freddie yelled from out his window, “I’m tired and hungry and I wanna see my kitties!!”

When he spotted Brian, he furrowed his brow and rolled up his window, opening the door of his car and joining his bandmates. 

“Brian, dear? What’s wrong?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and Roger and Deaky as they shrugged.

“He lost his keys, somehow made his frazzled mind  _ more _ frazzled, started having some kind of freakout, and now he won’t get up.” John explained to Freddie, shivering softly when the chilled wind picked up again. 

“Brimi, you need to get up before we all get sick.  _ Please _ , Bri?” Roger begged. Brian groaned.

“Rog, I can’t. Really, I  _ really can’t _ ..” Brian replied, his voice barely a whisper. 

Roger stood confused for a moment, before inhaling and exhaling loudly with realization. He finally understood.

“Brian, did you eat anything at the airport?”

Brian shook his head slowly. 

“What about before the flight?”

The guitarist shook his head. 

“What about on the flight? Anything at all?”

Again, a no. 

Roger shook his head in disbelief. 

“ _ Jesus,  _ Bri.  _ Why?” _ he groaned. Brian looked up at him in guilt. 

“No one else was..” Brian squeaked, “And I wasn’t hungry…” 

Roger snorted sarcastically, “Right. Well, it doesn’t  _ matter _ if you’re hungry, you still have to put  _ something _ in you and you know of all people would fucking know that. You promised your parents you’d take care of yourself, bloody hell!”

“I’m sorry…” Brian squeaked.

“What’s...going on?” John asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“Mate, that’s why you feel so sick. And tired. And more frazzled than usual. And also clearly why you can’t get up.” Roger continued. 

“Seriously, what’s going on?” Freddie asked. Roger opened Brian’s backpack, rummaging through it.

“This careless fool’s got low blood pressure. He needs to eat and get some sugar in him or else he’ll start feeling fatigued.” 

“Hey, that’s my backpack..” Brian said weakly, “Don’t go through my stuff..” 

Roger shook his head. “No, you need something to eat, Brimi.” 

Brian groaned in response as Roger pulled out a chocolate bar from his backpack.

“God, Rog. Please don’t make me eat that..” 

Roger rolled his eyes. “If you had taken care of yourself in the first place, you wouldn’t have this problem. Now eat it, please.” 

Brian groaned, bu reluctantly unwrapped it and started eating it. 

“Is Brian alright?” John asked, worryingly. Roger turned to face him and nodded his head. 

“He’ll be fine. He just needs to eat something with some sugar in it.” 

“Good.” Freddie replied, “Well, I’m gonna go meet you guys at the front gate, then. I hope you feel a bit better, Bri!”

John nodded off as well, getting in his own car and following Freddie out to the gate. After a few more minutes, Brian sighed, and lifted himself up shakily with the help of Roger. 

“Feeling better?” he asked. Brian shrugged as he got close to the car, walking slowly. 

“Well, we can stop and get some food on the way home. Eating something besides a chocolate bar will certainly make you feel better.” 

The two of them finally made it to the car, turning it on and buckling their seat belts. Roger immediately melted into the warmth of the heat from the car, and he looked beside him to see Brian start to relax as well.

They passed the gate and Roger explained the lost keys situation to the employees. They silently drove onto the highway, eager to get back home. They stopped halfway and got some takeout and ate their well-deserved dinner. After that, they sat driving in silence. 

“I’m sorry.” Brian said quietly, “I was already feeling gross, but I just  _ had _ to go and not eat anything today. Then I lost my keys and you had to drive me home, and I ended up just worrying everyone and--”

“It’s alright. Just make sure to eat next time.”

Roger watched as the guitarist flicked away a couple of tears that Roger hadn’t even noticed. “Aww, Brimi. Don’t feel so bad about it. No one’s angry or anything.”

He knew how sensitive the man could be about being an inconvenience in any way. Brian sniffled and smiled softly. 

“Thanks, mate. What would I bloody do without you?”

Roger chuckled, “You’d be frozen to death in an airport parking lot.”

  
  



End file.
